


Safe From The World

by ninwrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood is a POET and he has no idea, Canon Compliant, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, For the most part, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Minor Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s02e20 Beside Still Water, Romantic Fluff, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life, for the "fan club", power couple of new york, some - Freeform, they both deserve all the happiness in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: It's quiet and personal and exists between them, and them alone.





	Safe From The World

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Intertwined' by Dodie Clark
> 
> This entire, beautiful mess of a fic came about because 1) Todd tweeted about sandalwood 2) Val asked for Clave interaction and 3) I can't control myself when writing these dorks.
> 
> \--
> 
> ALL MY LOVE to the "fan club" - I can't thank you enough for all your support, but I hope this fic helps with the expression of my encompassing gratitude.
> 
> and a thousand purple hearts to my parabatai, for assuring me that this messy bundle of a fic is, actually, pretty good.
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

 

"It's progress."

Alec sighs, as the portal behind them winks out. Magnus squeezes his arm, but it does little to chase off the cold twisting inside his lungs. The Downworlder cabinet meeting had been, eventful, but not in the ways Alec had been hoping.

It's foolish, he knows, and he'd known walking in, that expecting anything would be disastrous, but he couldn't help himself. Valentine is dead. The biggest threat to life itself, has been extinguished.

He hadn't factored in the pre-existing issues between the Downworlder cabinet and the Clave, though - who had refused to send a representative, leaving Alec to do all of the dirty work himself.

In the Clave's eyes, he presumes - Inquisitor Herondale hadn't given him much of an explanation - because he is the Head of an Institute, he's fitting enough to stand for the entire race of Shadowhunters.

Which would be fine, if the entire collective of Shadowhunters aligned with the views that Alec holds. He can't stand in for all Shadowhunters, that's supposed to be the Clave's job - Shadowhunters look to them for guidance and rules,  _sed lex, dura lex_  and all that.

All the Clave is saying, by refusing to attend cabinet meetings, is that they don't really care enough to make an appearance, let alone make any effort to improve relations. Despite the troubles in the past, the Downworlder faction leaders of New York have a healthy understanding with Alec, they all realise the lengths he is willing to go to in order to build strong relationships, and respect him for it.

It's not Alec they have a problem with.

"Is it progress?" Alec asks, turning huffily to look at Magnus, who's left Alec to his thoughts and is currently hanging up his scarf and coat. "We've established that Raphael no longer hates me, that Luke still respects me as a leader and a person, and that you, as Raphael's second-in-command so  _kindly_  pointed out, are the most biased person on the board."

Magnus glances over his shoulder, a wry smile twisting his mouth. "I hope you're not being serious, Alexander. Raphael has never hated you, he just likes pretending, and Luke has always respected you. I will not count myself in this for reasons of self-preservation - and Lily, well, Lily doesn't like anyone."

He pauses, brow furrowing slightly. "Actually," He adds, thoughtfully. "Lily  _usually_ doesn't like anyone. It took her decades to warm up to Raphael, probably because she's older, and I'm certain she's still not all that fond of me - but you..."

Alec raises a confused eyebrow. "Me?"

Magnus hums. "I believe she might be taking quite a liking to you. It's hard to tell, because she prides herself on fulfilling the cold-hearted, stone-faced vampire stereotype - but she didn't bite at you the way she would most Shadowhunters. The fact that she even spoke to you with any semblance of respect is a step above how she treats most of your kind."

A tense shiver races down Alec's spine. "When I walked in, I genuinely thought she was going to kill me - I don't even think the fact we were in the Hunter's Moon with other people would have stopped her. She had the darkest, most  _murderous_ glare I've ever seen."

Magnus shrugs, dusting imaginary lint off his coat. "That's just Lily. I wouldn't take it to heart, love. She's warming up to you quicker than she has any other Shadowhunter before, and besides, she looks at Maia the exact same way, and neither of them have torn each other yet."

Alec scrubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. "I guess."

Magnus does have a point, which is the infuriating part, because Alec feels a bit, dumb, now. His concerns are within reason, though not founded in any truth, and it's another reminder that even with the progress he's made, he still has a lot to learn.

Magnus reaches out, slowly, to cup the side of Alec's cheek, unglamoured eyes wide and kind. Alec sighs, but can't deny the warmth that spreads at the touch. "You are not the Clave." He states, and it throws Alec off a bit, for a second, because - duh.

He's not the Clave, he's the Head of the New York Institute. He's a a member of the Clave, yes, but he doesn't represent the entire thing.

Which, he realises belatedly, is Magnus' point.

Magnus strokes his thumb idly across Alec's cheek, gaze straying not once from Alec's. "No one is expecting anything from you." Magnus states. "You can't alter the laws, because that isn't part of your job description. Keeping peace, listening to the other side and hearing out arguments before making decisions - that is something you  _can_  do."

That  _is_ what he's doing, but it doesn't feel like enough. Nothing he does ever feels like it is enough, because there's always another problem for him to deal with, or someone who seems to hate him despite not knowing anything about him. He can't appease both sides, because there's always  _someone_ who has a problem with it. How is that keeping peace?

Magnus tuts, bringing Alec's attention back to reality. "Alexander," He whispers, with unbelievable care. "You cannot change the world overnight. Rome was not built in a day. Nor was it done by one person alone."

Alec glances off to the side, because Magnus' support is unrelenting, and he's right, because he's always right, but it's a little irritating. He's always been the one to do everything. He's the eldest child, a leader in the field and now a representative of the New York Shadowhunters ... if he doesn't try and fix things, who will?

"You can lean on others," Magnus whispers, not trying to pull Alec's gaze, but speaking directly to him anyway. "You are not Atlas. The world does not rest on your shoulders. It is not a burden to carry alone - there are plenty of Shadowhunters, your siblings included, who support your endeavour towards a better world. You have the respect, and endorsement of three, out of four, Downworld leaders, who will stand by you because they believe  _in_  you."

Alec sighs. Magnus isn't lying. The problem is, what does he do with the support? How is he supposed to move forward when his feet are stuck in concrete, his hands tied behind his back - the only thing he is without is a gag, which the Downworld as a collective have already been strapped with.

All he has is his voice. He doesn't have any way of really using it. Any attempt to fix things is as effective as shouting an echo into the void. No one is listening, all he's walking away with is a sore throat and a pounding headache that never leaves. He's not actually achieving anything.

"You're doing more than you believe," Magnus says, because he knows what Alec is thinking, even when Alec himself doesn't. "Just because you cannot see the change you are making, does not mean it isn't occurring. It just might not be happening as quickly as you'd like."

The last sentence is teasing, carried with a hint of laughter, and it encourages Alec to turn his gaze back. Magnus is watching him with an undefinable amount of affection, though no pity whatsoever, which Alec appreciates the most. He hates being pitied, because it makes him feel weak - and Magnus understands that.

Alec's heart swells, unbidden, inside his chest, and although the doubt still lingers and his vision is clouded around the edges with disappointment, the frustration that had been burning under his skin simmers down until he can barely feel it anymore.

It's still there, and it will be, until the Clave get their privileged heads out of their asses and actually do something productive, but for the moment anger is serving as nothing more than wasted energy.

Alec is tired. Bone-deep exhausted. He doesn't have the strength to care about the Clave's inactivity tonight. There isn't anything he can do until tomorrow, at the earliest, and removed from the Clave's lack of presence, the meeting had gone well.

There'd been discussion of holding regular Downworlder-Shadowhunter friendly events at the Hunter's Moon, all voluntary, so that both could mingle and mix and learn about the other without the threat of the Accords bearing down on them. Alec had promised, in writing, that each respective faction leader would be consulted on issues or events that relate to them or their people, so that nothing as bad as the Soul Sword incident ever arises, again.

Magnus had squeezed his knee under the table, when Alec had announced it, but Alec surprisingly hadn't needed his support in the moment. He's aware of his mistakes, and instead of letting them slip by, he's making damn sure that they will never happen again.

When mistakes are made, the only thing to do is learn from them, and  _never_  repeat them.

"I suppose," Alec glances at Magnus as coyly as he can manage. "Things can't always get fixed with the snap of one's fingers, hm?"

Magnus smiles, and shakes his head mournfully. "Unfortunately not, my love. If only - I would have changed a lot over the years."

Alec sighs, but he's smiling too, because he's shrugging the events of the day off, leaving just him and Magnus and an entire empty night before them. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around Magnus' waist to effectively pull him closer. Magnus is grinning now, too, happy and bright, his beautiful cat-eyes glittering with fond mirth.

"There's one thing I'd hope you wouldn't change," Alec whispers, gaze flicking to Magnus' lips, and then back up again.

"Alexander," Magnus slides his hand, until it's cupping the back of Alec's neck. "I would change my hairstyle in the eighties, or most trips to Peru ... you,  _sayang_ , are one thing I would never dare even consider changing. It might have been a bumpy road, that led me to you, but I would not alter the path I endeavoured down, even if I was given the chance."

Alec's lips are on Magnus' before the last words are even out, his hand pressed firmly against Magnus' back, keeping him close. Magnus smiles into the kiss, and it's soft and sweet and though temporary, enough to chase off the pressure that had been curving Alec's shoulders.

He has a lot to deal with, duties at every turn, but nothing more can be done tonight. So he's not going to let it bother him. He can't run away from his responsibilities, but he can push them back for a few hours, to enjoy what he has, what makes him happy.

 

* * *

 

"I think I'm going to have a shower." Alec glances at Magnus, a little apprehensively. "Wash off the day and leave it behind, you know?"

Magnus nods, delicately unclipping one of a multitude of necklaces. "Makes sense. There's new products in there, I stocked up today. Feel free to use whichever you want."

He continues removing his jewellery, all whilst Alec is staring at him with contorted surprise. "You're not-" Alec cuts himself off, words sticking in his throat.

Magnus looks up, curious and patient. There's a few steps of space between them, but none of it is uncomfortable. It feels, rather, like they are dancing around each other, going about their respective routines, orbiting the same space. It's very ... domestic. Nice.

Magnus seems to catch onto what Alec can't say. "I'll have a bath, after I have something to eat. Soak my muscles in some well-deserved bubbles." He says, something humble curving a smile. "You go ahead. I'll order in. Ethiopian sound good?"

Alec nods, dazedly. "Absolutely." He says, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Magnus just makes things so  _easy,_  effortless and simple in ways that always catch Alec off-guard. It's not that they've never shared a shower before, there's been a few times where time is not a luxury and they share for the sake of practicality; others, when it's been a long day and comfort is something they both ache for, soapy hands and wet cheek kisses enough to help chase away the slick darkness that had stuck to their skin like oil.

Today, however, Alec needs hot water that scorches his skin and something sharp to fill his senses that  _isn't_ demon ichor or the smokey hate that seems to burn the air around him. He needs a few minutes to himself, with just his own thoughts, so that he can order them before they bear down on him because the last thing he wants to do is snap at Magnus, the last person to deserve it.

And Magnus just ... gets it.

"Have I told you I love you, yet, today?" Alec asks, walking backwards towards the bathroom, a smile toying at his lips.

Magnus shrugs. "A few times."

"Well, I do."

Magnus's gentle smile stirs something warm inside Alec's chest. "I know. The feeling is mutual, darling."

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus is sitting on the bed when Alec walks out of the bathroom, legs stretched before him, tapping away at something on his phone. Alec hovers by the doorframe, one hand clutching the towel wrapped around his waist, the other scrubbing at his collarbone, just soaking in the scene before him.

Magnus has stripped himself of all jewellery and product, down to black silk pants and an oversized blue sweater that's ... not his.

"See something you like," Magnus asks, glancing up from his phone.  _"Shadowhunter?"_

"Something I love." Alec corrects. "Is that my sweater?"

Magnus tugs the sleeves over his hands. "I was cold." He says, sheepishly. "And it's warm."

 _And smells like me,_  Alec thinks with a sharp jolt, because he remembers Magnus saying that, once - that he likes wearing Alec's jumpers when Alec isn't there, because it smells of him, and it's like having a piece of Alec there when the real him is gone. It's not really information that Alec has figured out how to deal with, but the calming glow it brings about undoubtedly makes the confusion worth it.

"I was only in the shower," Alec points out. "I was on the other side of the door, not the world."

Magnus shrugs, as if questioning the difference. "You weren't here," He pats the bed, with a sweet smile that tugs at something deep inside of Alec. "I missed you."

Alec keeps a hand on his towel, and lowers himself to the edge of the bed, shoulder bumping gently against Magnus'. "You're a sap." He states, because really, he was only in the shower.

It's not like other unfortunate days, where neither had gotten the chance to see past their respective workloads, or the dark, dark time they spent apart with the weight of the Shadow World bearing down on them both in different ways - the latter are ones Alec refuses to think about.

He'd been barely five steps away. All that, realistically, had separated them had been a door. A simple slab of wood.

Magnus reaches out, sliding his hand into Alec's, resting them on the bed. "I am." He glances up, coy and soft, lashes fluttering a little apprehensively. "You love me, though."

Alec laughs, squeezing Magnus' hand. "I do."

Magnus smiles, apparently pleased with Alec's response, and the glow inside of Alec's chest spreads all the way out to the tips of his fingers and down, down to his toes. Magnus leans over, dropping a kiss to the bare edge of Alec's shoulder, then one to the wingspan of Alec's collarbone, another beneath the cut of Alec's jaw and the pink apple of his cheek. A pleasant shiver races down Alec's spine, and he shifts, until he's angled better towards Magnus, their hands caught between them.

Magnus nuzzles a line of soft-nosed kisses along Alec's cheek and jaw, nipping at the skin behind Alec's ear with the barest hint of teeth. He presses a smile to Alec's skin, sparks buzzing beneath, not from magic that is blue or red but that which resides within their beating hearts - it does not need a colour, but if it had one, it would be gold.

Magnus hums against Alec's neck, lips warm and breath hot. "Sandalwood works well on you," Magnus whispers. "You should use it more often."

"You use it," Alec points out. It had sounded better in his head, but the dumb words are out now, and he can't take them back, even if Magnus was the type to let him.

"I do." Magnus pulls back. He's smirking, and Alec is torn between kissing it away and just burying his head in his own hands. Heat blooms across his cheeks like a wildfire, but attempting to rid himself of it is as pointless as arguing with the Clave.

The outcome, however adamant and passionate he is, remains the same.

"Do you like it?" Magnus asks. His hand slips from Alec's, but before Alec can mourn its absence, Magnus is cupping his cheek, and he decides he likes that placement a lot better.

"When you smell of sandalwood?" Alec pauses, considering it, though the answer isn't that far out of reach. "Well, I like the scent. And I love you." He brushes a kiss to the edge of Magnus' mouth, catching the corner of his glittering smile. "And there's something kind of thrilling about knowing we ... you know,"

He doesn't have the fuel to say it, but Magnus seems to catch on, as always. He pulls Alec close, lips soft and parted, and although Alec loves talking to Magnus, and soaking in every inch of his beautiful face, and just being in his presence - there is little more exciting than the feel of their lips dancing in sweet tandem.

Magnus is the best part of his day. Kissing him feels like slotting something into place, returning a lost piece - within Magnus' arms is the one time he truly feels whole.

 

* * *

 

 

They eat dinner on the balcony, floating candles lighting the space, though no light can compare to that which resides in their eyes. Magnus teaches him  _gursha_ , an act of significance between loved ones, or as he puts it "those whose hearts beat to the same drum" - which Alec definitely takes in without almost spilling food on himself - a tradition found in Ethiopian culture.

Alec's skin buzzes with the affection of the gesture, the knowledge that it's important to Magnus, that Magnus is letting him in to such a revered tradition. His mouth parts to accommodate Magnus' offering, a morsel of tsebhi, a curry of sorts, wrapped in a strip of flatbread called injera, held out with Magnus' delicate fingers. Alec's lips brush against the end of Magnus' hand, his heart stuttering when Magnus gently wipes at the corner with his thumb.

"There's an old Amharic saying," Magnus whispers, ripping at the injera. " _Gursha ena feker siyaschenik naw_." He stirs the small pot of tsebhi, scooping some carefully onto the flatbread. "It means that this gesture comes with a bit of pain and discomfort, in stretching your mouth to receive the food."

Alec blinks, because he doesn't have anything to say, and besides he isn't sure Magnus is done. He's not wrong, it's not comfortable, but the pleasant glow of the situation surpasses any pain that pulls at his mouth.

"The saying goes that, just as you are required to stretch your mouth to accept an offering, love, and falling in love, forces you to change your usual ways, or comfort zone. To widen your boundaries and let love, and all its problems, in."

Magnus offers, again, as per the tradition, and Alec forces his lashes to blink back intruding tears, the glow inside his chest too bright, too hot, too much. It's harder than it should be, with Magnus' fingers trailing across his chin, affection bleeding through every touch, heightened in the air around them like static.

Alec leans forward, lips soft and spiced, and pours his gratitude and affection in the only gesture he can. Magnus' eyes have fluttered closed, when Alec pulls back, his thumb tracing over his bottom lip with a delicate reverence.

"Thank you," Alec whispers. "For trusting me with this."

Magnus' eyes open slowly, the gold of his unglamoured eyes flickering like the flames of the scattered candles around them. "I would trust you with anything," Magnus promises. "Everything. This is just a small gesture I came across a few decades back."

"Still." Alec glances at the spread of food beside them, the different tastes and smells nothing to his senses like that which rises inside him like a swaying tide. "This means something to you, and I'm ... honoured, that you'd share it with me. That you'd share something this significant, with me."

He knows that he's important to Magnus, he can't deny that, but this is an incredibly intimate and moving gesture, it's a cultural  _tradition_  that Magnus is performing with Alec, and out of everything they've done together, this feels like it means more.

It's quiet and personal and exists between them, and them alone.

Magnus shakes his head, fondly, with that smile that tells Alec he's said something cute, but also a little surprising. A little lighter than  _you never cease to amaze me,_ but just as meaningful.

"There is no one else that I would consider this with." Magnus promises, reaching for Alec's hand. He lifts it up, brushing a kiss against Alec's knuckles with an aching care. Alec's never felt loved in this way before, never imagined that love could feel like this, that  _he_  could feel like this. It's unexpected and constantly surprising and sometimes he trips over it but he wouldn't ever change it, not for anything.

"No one has made me feel happy, like you do." Alec mumbles, once breath has returned to his lungs.

Magnus looks over with a sharp turn of his head like whiplash. His hands still, hovering over the food in preparation of the third, and final, offering.  _"Alexander,"_  He whispers, tone carrying the barest hint of a whimper. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" Alec asks, feeling emboldened. "I feel it, and I mean it, and I think you deserve to know."

Magnus exhales, a shaky breath slipping between a poignantly sweet smile. "I feel the same," He admits, after a moment, having apparently collected himself enough to speak. A thrill races through Alec, knowing that he can have the same speech-stealing impact on Magnus, that Magnus so often has on him.

"I am the happiest I have  _ever_  been, in centuries, and it's all thanks to you, my sweet." Magnus presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of Alec's cheek, eyes alight and burning gold with an intensity that quite literally takes Alec's breath away.

"I thought I knew what love was, but this, what we have, what you give me so selflessly, is so much more than I ever thought myself deserving of." Magnus offers Alec the last portion of injera, smiling with all the force of a thousand stars.

"This, is love. Real, true, and utterly incomparable."

 

* * *

 

 

"Is it supposed to be smoking like that?"

Alec peers over the edge of his book, cautiously eyeing the bubbling cauldron stationed in the middle of the glass table. It had been green the last time he checked. Now it's a vibrant, almost sickening pink. And it's  _smoking._

Magnus doesn't seem that bothered, which should reassure Alec, but again - it's smoking.

"It's all part of the process, my darling." Magnus says dropping a pinch of something into the cauldron. It spits in response. "Potions are notoriously finicky things. Ones like this-" To regenerate lost magic; Magnus is making stock to send to the Spiral Labyrinth. "Take a lot of time, and one wrong step could blow up this apartment. Fortunately, I do know what I am doing."

 _"Blow up the apartment,"_  Alec echoes in a high-pitch beneath his breath, eyes blown incredulously at his book. He'd taken it at random from Magnus' smaller bookshelf, because it's in the hall and a lot less intimidating than the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves in the study.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time, after having flicked idly through it, to realise that it was Magnus'. His own, intellectual property. A book he's written and compiled all by himself.

It's fascinating, the first volume in what he assumes is a set, about unspoken rules within warlock society, and how their businesses are run in terms of revealing to mundanes only what is required for them to know, and little else, because knowledge is power and mundanes have, apparently, been known to abuse it in the past.

Or so Magnus' tome declares.

It's not something that Alec has ever been able to consider before, because the goings on of warlocks isn't something Shadowhunters are taught, but he's curious, and in widening his view on the world he needs to see from the perspective of others.

He's only a few pages in, but already he's discovered that there are factions within the warlock society relating to specialty and studies, such as healing or combat or even elemental-based magic - which he knew, from a common-sense standpoint, but hadn't quite realised it to the extent it exists - and that cultures surrounding warlocks, their magic and how they face situations, tends to differ relating to the countries they are from, or reside in, more than the time period they were born in.

Obviously, he could find this all out if he asked Magnus himself, but reading this provides a broader view on warlock society, as opposed to just Magnus' personal experiences, and it's something he can take his time with, to soak in as much as he can until he truly understands it.

It's odd, though, the sense of pride that fills him, knowing that Magnus has written this, and countless other volumes on a range of different subjects - Alec knows that Magnus has his spellbook, that he wrote that, and clearly Magnus isn't  _dumb_ , but Alec hadn't realised how much Magnus had accomplished, intellectually.

He has mundane qualifications framed in his study, certifying him as a  _doctor_  at least four times over, and even Alec with his sheltered upbringing can recognise what an incredible accomplishment that is.

Magnus had been uncharacteristically shy when Alec had asked about it, muttering how it's really nothing, that with endless time comes constricting boredom, that he'd first taken up studies simply as a way to pass the time and keep things interesting.

Alec, in response, had kissed him on the forehead and settled himself in the corner of the couch, legs tucked up beneath him and a colourful throw from the back of the couch covering him from the waist down to his toes - his heartbeat had settled once Magnus had made a coy remark between his sexuality and the colour of the blanket, because it meant that Magnus was okay, okay enough to joke and jibe and bop Alec's nose after Alec had stuck his tongue out in completely mature retaliation.

The potion sparks, then, with a loud  _pop_  sound. Alec is startled enough to drop the book, the hard cover hitting his knee and falling to the floor with a low thud. Magnus glances up sheepishly, hands glowing blue and hovering over the steaming cauldron.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Alec asks, cautiously.

"Absolutely," Magnus replies, before adding in a low voice: "Just, not yet."

Alec rolls his eyes, and bends down to pick up his book. "I trust that you know what you are doing," He states. "I can't imagine that you got the role of High Warlock without being suitable for it. But that didn't sound very good."

"It will be fine," Magnus waves a dismissing hand. "I just need to add a few more bat wings, which means I'll need to make a few trips over the next couple of days to stock up, which I'd hoped to push back until next week." Magnus shrugs. "These things happen. More often than I'd like to admit, but it's not something new."

"So it isn't going to blow up the apartment?"

Magnus fixes him with a glare that lacks any real heat. "Not on my watch," He states, twisting off the lid of a jar Alec presumes holds the bat wings. "I've gotten myself out of far worse situations with all my limbs attached. Besides," He tracks a languid gaze over Alec's form, a giddy smile betraying any hope he'd had of being coy. "I quite like having you around."

"And you paid a lot for this loft, and the objects inside it are irreplaceable, so you'd quite like to preserve your belongings." Alec replies, flipping back to his lost page. If he'd been around as long as Magnus, and collected what he had, he'd be quite protective over it.

Then again, the only possession he's fond of, really, is his bow.

"There's irreplaceable," Magnus comments, softly. "And then, there is utterly priceless."

Alec looks up, which is a  _mistake_ , because Magnus' eyes are shining with uncontainable love and it's just a lot. His words sink into Alec's skin and straight to his erratic heart, soothing over any doubts that might have tried to bury their way in, because how can he doubt anything when Magnus is calling him priceless and looking at him  _like that._

"I love you," Magnus says, kneeling on the other side of the coffee table, hands streaked with grey like charcoal. He doesn't say it because the situation demands it, or because he feels he has to, in order to convince Alec of something.

He just, says it, and then returns to his potion, which is bubbling away happily, somewhere between a burnt red and oak brown and fortunately not appearing ready to blow up anytime soon. "Just in case you, forgot. Or something."

"I didn't forget." Alec doesn't mean to speak quietly; the words simply refuse to register on a higher note. "I couldn't ever, forget."

"Good."

Alec nods. "Yeah," He hums, tucking the blanket against his hip. It is rather bright and, rainbow-like. "I love you, too."

Magnus smiles. "Good."

It is.

 

* * *

 

"I liked the pink."

Magnus locks gaze with Alec through the vanity reflection. "Sorry, darling?"

Alec's quite proud of the fact he manages to keep most of the heat from flaring across his cheeks. "Your hair." He rifles through the drawer allocated for himself, looking for a shirt that preferably has a collar and isn't entirely black. "I liked it with the pink."

From the wedding that wasn't. From the first time Alec took a step for himself, towards something that  _he_  wanted. It's a reminder of a significant time in their relationship, but also - it was simply an attractive look.

Magnus hums, thoughtfully. Alec abandons the drawer, because it contains nothing but the same shirt in slightly varying colours - because Alec is adamant that grey is a colour - and turns to ask Magnus for help, hoping to avoid encouraging Magnus to dress him up, because something tells him the Inquisitor will not appreciate if he walks into the Institute wearing an outfit more suitable for a Friday night date, or Pandemonium.

"Oh."

Magnus twirls on the spot, hands splayed out wide. "Very articulate, darling."

Alec snaps his jaw shut, arms crossing over his chest defensively. "It's too early in the morning for you to look like that." He complains. "Wearing, all of that."

He'd dipped his fringe in a bright magenta that blends into the dark roots, curled over his forehead with a particulate care that brings out the ruby studs in his ear, the delicate thread of crimson tracing complicated swirls and patterns in his sheer black shirt. His pants are dark, and  _tight,_  bright red suspenders hanging from the belt, rather contradictory to their purpose, not that Alec is going to deny their effectiveness in other areas - even his shoes are sleek and shiny, black boots bleeding into a red block heel.

He looks like the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Dark and formidable and undeniably powerful.

It's incredibly sexy.

Which Alec, being the perfectly composed person he is, manages to blurt out with a heavy exhale. This time, the blood races up his neck faster than the effect of an  _amissio_ rune could ever dream of.

He doesn't break though. He meant it. Magnus looks  _hot_. The pride that rises inside Alec, warring with burning desire and the nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him that they both have places to go, is simply a bonus.

"Well," Magnus clears his throat and breaks their gaze, fiddling distractedly with the array of necklaces trailing down his chest. "Thank you, darling."

Alec grins, unable to keep the heightened satisfaction and glee from bursting through. "Just, in case you were wondering." He explains. "I like it."

Magnus nods. "Noted."

Alec barely notices Magnus move, distracted by the sharp curve of dark eyeshadow cutting across his lid, the pink shimmer highlighting his devilish smirk - and then, suddenly, his shirt isn't old and faded but a deep blue, form-fitting button-up with a pressed collar, and a tiny silver  _AL_ intialised on one cuff,  _MB_  on the other.

It's so, disgustingly cute that a part of Alec withers at the warmth that blooms at the sight. It's four letters, all in all, it shouldn't be that important, but it's  _their_  initials, printed on his sleeves, barely noticeable but still  _there -_ and a vocal part of him thrills at it.

Magnus hums, appraising Alec's new look with a gaze both inspired and hungry. "I  _love_  this look, Alexander. Professional, yet elegant, and of course it brings out your runes-" A shiver races down Alec's spine, as Magnus traces his bottom lip slowly with his tongue. "One of your best looks."

"Glad you approve." Alec says, his voice weaker than he'd like. The change had been sudden, but not uncomfortable - he's slowly been able to accommodate to the way Magnus' magic works, almost as an extension of the man himself.

It's not the weirdest thing he's seen Magnus do with magic.

Magnus winks, coyly, a hint of something softer tugging at the corners of his smirk. "Very much so."

Alec laughs, softly, because he has to. Sure, his hair is relatively under control, and the shirt fits him well - very well, apparently - but he's also wearing blue plaid lounge pants and bare feet. It's not exactly a finished look.

Certainly nothing worth the sultry gaze Magnus keeps sliding Alec's way.

"I have looked far better than this, before." Alec points out, even as Magnus steps towards him with a liquid grace. "I would have thought you, of all people, would have better taste than this."

Button-up and pajamas? Alec knows he doesn't have much sense in the way of style but even he is aware that such a combination doesn't work.

"Alexander," Magnus tips his head, glancing up at Alec through hooded lids, unglamoured eyes glittering like coins. "You could wear a potato sack covered in coloured paper dots, and you would still be the most beautiful person alive."

Alec shakes his head, because the idea is ludicrous, and he knows, somehow, deep inside where the light is too bright for darkness to touch, he knows that Magnus isn't lying.

"You're ridiculous." Alec replies, leaning into the hand that Magnus rests against his cheek.

Magnus shrugs. "Perhaps. Love, so it goes, makes one do crazy things. It is entirely possible it makes one say preposterous things." Magnus leans in, nose a teasing brush against Alec's cheek. "Either way - I mean it. You, Alexander Lightwood, are beautiful."

Alec doesn't try and refute the statement, because he knows that Magnus won't accept it. Instead, he ghosts his lips against Magnus', soft and sweet, tugging Magnus forward by the suspenders hanging off his belt, making the most of what little time they have left in the sanctity of their loft.

Alec would argue until his veins burst that Magnus is nothing if not an honest man. But Magnus does  _lie_.

Alec can't be the most beautiful person alive, when Magnus exists.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus giggles, warm against Alec's cheek. The sun beats down on them in golden rays, a persistent reminder that time will not stop for them, that duties persist because they are more than just their relationship.

"We can't keep doing this for much longer," Magnus whispers, the words ghosting over Alec's ear. He presses a soft kiss to Alec's cheek, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of Alec's neck. "We both have things to do. Important things."

Alec sighs, his forehead pressed to Magnus'; his hands dance teasingly beneath Magnus' jacket, grinning as Magnus arches into the touch. If he were more daring, and they weren't standing before the steps of the Institute, he'd propose a flirtier alternative.

As much as it pains him to admit, Magnus is right. Alec has to meet with the Inquisitor to fill her in on the Downworlder council meeting - because her lack-of-presence doesn't equate to her lack-of-knowledge, apparently.

Magnus is consulting with Isabelle on a case regarding mundanes and demon larvae, which is already enough for Alec to know - a part of him is dreading the report, because he knows that Isabelle is detailed, she never leaves anything out of her reports, not even the minor, inconsequential details that he'd rather prefer to not be aware of.

He's been studying and fighting demons for most of his life, but Isabelle's reports paint a vivid picture, and it more often than not takes him days to get the imprint of her elegant writing out of his mind, the image it burns so bright he might as well be down in the labs with her.

A shudder races down Alec's spine. He straightens, one hand pressing flat against the small of Magnus' back, keeping him close, breathing in the citrus and sweet jasmine at the base of his neck, peppering teasing kisses up the column of his neck and the soft, sensitive space behind his ear.

"Do you ever just, wish that the world would stop spinning?" Alec asks, tightening his grip on Magnus, as though by doing so they'll never have to separate.

"Most hours a day," Magnus admits, pressing a kiss to Alec's temple. "As soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know."

"Please, do." Alec pulls back, reluctantly, hands straying to Magnus' hips. "I'd really rather not do this."

Magnus brushes his thumb across Alec's cheek, ring cool against Alec's heated skin. "I know, darling. But just think. You have the moral high ground. You are committed to these meetings, to your people and to the Downworld, and if little else, it means you are the bigger person."

"I doubt Inquisitor Herondale will really care about that."

"Perhaps not." Magnus smiles, his thumb still soothing over Alec's cheek. "But I do. And you should. Your integrity is more important than any excuse she throws at you."

Alec indulges the smile while he can, knowing that it will disappear once he passes through the heavy doors. "I suppose you're right."

Magnus brushes his thumb over the top of Alec's ear, fingers slid in his hair. "I usually am."

They gravitate together, for a goodbye kiss, though not a short one. Alec attempts to chase after Magnus' lips when Magnus pulls back, but it morphs into less of a kiss and more just two smiles bumping together, sweet and a little ridiculous.

"I'll text you as soon as I can get away," Alec promises. "Think you can make time for lunch?"

"I will always make time for you, Alexander."

 

* * *

 

 

Alec is fuming.

Fortunately, he's pretty sure that he's keeping it fairly under-control, hands clenching into fists over his knees, hidden safely beneath the desk. His back is ram-rod straight, mouth a thin-pressed line to keep regretful comment from slipping out.

It's a shame, that the Inquisitor has no such grace.

"There is no point in wasting resources that could be better spent somewhere else. " She claims. "The Shadowhunter race is dwindling quicker than we can keep up with, we don't have enough trained recruits to replace the ranks we have lost."

Imogen is perched on the other side of the desk, very begrudgingly, because Alec might be willing to let some ill-spoken words slide, but he refuses to give up his seat.

It's a position of power, and in this room, it's Alec's to hold.

"Remind me, again, of what the new Shadowhunters are being trained for?" Alec stares Imogen down, retaining politeness but allowing a breath of fatigue to slip through, because they've been having the same round-about argument for the past hour.

The hour before that, had been full of reports and updating Imogen on the state of the Institute at present, patrol schedules and the reassurance that it isn't going to come crashing down in flames and burning embers just because he's in charge.

Alec is at his tethered end, he's quickly losing patience and belief in his own ability to keep his mouth shut. Trying to convince Imogen that she isn't right, that the all-powerful, omnipotent Clave doesn't quite hold the sway it thinks it does.

"The pursuit of the angelic against the demonic." Imogen quotes. Alec casts his gaze up to the ceiling, because it is as close to an eye-roll as the situation will allow. "Shadowhunters are protectors-"

"Defenders, knights errant in the name of the angels." Alec finishes, because he has read the Codex, and he is aware of what exactly is written in it, and only recently has he come to the realisation of how utterly stupid it all is.

"Downworlders aren't weak." Alec states, because although it sounds obvious to his ears, he's sure it's a clear shock to Imogen's system. "In fact, the entirety of the New York wolf pack is probably stronger than everyone in the Institute, and the New York vampire clan are incredibly dedicated to the tasks they put their mind to."

Imogen visibly bristles in her seat, hands clasped so tight in front of her that it's a surprise the blood hasn't drained from her knuckles. Alec doesn't care. Nor, is he finished.

"The High Warlock of Brooklyn-" Alec ignores the glare that Imogen fixes him with, because this isn't about his personal relationship. This is simply about facts. "Is the most powerful warlock in the broader New York area, and probably most of Northern America."

Alec expects a comment about his bias, about being entranced by Magnus so much that he's blind to the truth or some other such nonsense - it's nothing he hasn't heard before. He's rather startled at Imogen's dry response.

"Probably not difficult," She states, as though it is a casual thing and not an insult. "There are less of them. Statistically speaking, one would only have to be good enough to open a portal to surpass the skill levels of most others."

Alec can feel his frustration bubbling inside, but he pushes it down, because fighting back isn't going to help anyone. Besides, Magnus' skill speaks for itself.

"Funny that, Magnus Bane has managed to keep his title far longer than any Head of this Institute-" Alec cuts his gaze sharply to Imogen's, dark and scathing. "Or member of the council, for that matter."

It's a low blow, but Imogen is playing dirty and Alec refuses to stand back and let it pass. There's no one else here to defend the integrity of Downworlders as a whole, let alone Magnus - if they were, Alec would be sitting back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, wishing he had some popcorn to munch on while he enjoys the show.

That isn't the case. It is Imogen and himself, in a sanctified room of its own distinction; it is a conversation between two Shadowhunters who stand on either side of a gaping chasm, and Alec refuses to be the one who crosses the distance.

"Your time with Downworlders has tainted your world view." Imogen states, haughtily. "You no longer look at things with the logic and detail required of a Shadowhunter, but the folly of lesser beings."

Alec scoffs. "Lesser-" He shakes his head. He actually pities Imogen, for her narrow-minded outlook. "I am not the one with a tainted view. The fact that you can't see further than your own prejudice, to the truth that waits before you, simply proves that you are the one with a problem, and not me."

"What Shadowhunter allies themselves with Downworlders-" Imogen sneers. It's quite an unattractive look, eyes flashing angrily, nostrils flaring, mouth twisted into a sharp line. "Your dalliance with a warlock is, I'll admit, quite inappropriate-"  _Disgusting._  "But I had retained some hope that it wouldn't affect your leadership."

"The Institute is being run perfectly fine," Alec points out, skin buzzing with agitation. "Task forces are performing better than ever, the records for demon attacks are low, and thanks to the meetings with the Downworld Cabinet - which you so  _unfortunately_  missed - relations with the Downworld are at a level of peace not achieved before."

"The Accords-"

"The Accords are a sham." Alec manages to remain calm, despite the rage simmering inside of him. "You claim the Accords are written to invoke peace, but you don't have any intention of following through. We are not the rulers of the Shadow World, we are one cog in a giant machine and the more we refuse to co-operate, the quicker it will all fall apart around us."

He stands up, palms flat on the desk, staring Imogen down, because she may be older, and in a higher position of power, but she doesn't have half the determined conviction he does.

Imogen tried to slip her new grandson into a position of power without first assessing his abilities, a fellow council member was found to be working for Valentine, and all eyes are on her, to see if she'll turn-coat like Malachi.

Alec quit his own wedding to kiss a warlock of the same gender, and still managed to build up a healthy relationship and earn a position of power.

He has the moral high ground, and, in a way, a professional one. "I will not lie to you, Inquisitor Herondale, this has not been a pleasant conversation. I'd like to hope you will open your mind to the truth of the world, but for some reason, part of me doubts that. Instead, I wish you luck on your travels back to Idris."

He leans forward, towering over the desk with his elbows locked, using his height - for once - to his advantage. "I highly suggest you rethink the way you treat Downworlders, because they are more vital to your survival, and to the survival of Shadowhunters as a whole, than you will ever realise."

He pulls back, watching the flicker of frustration, admonishment and pure surprise race through Imogen's hardened eyes. She stands up with all the grace she can summon, but Alec is tired, of her never-ending nonsense, and of having to fight what feels like a pointless war, because he has more privilege than others in the given situation.

He doesn't mind standing up for what he believes in, for what is right, but it feels a lot like butting his head against a brick wall, achieving nothing more than a permanent headache and an immovable weight on his chest.

The door slams when Imogen leaves, and it's only once that damning noise echoes around the office that Alec lets himself slump back down in his chair. He's being ridiculous, really, because his situation is in no way as horrible or degrading as that which Magnus, Luke, Raphael, Maia - most, if not certainly  _all_ Downworlders - live through day in, and day out.

Two, three hours is nothing compared to a  _lifetime_  of prejudice and injustice - yet, despite knowing this, the nagging voice at the back of his mind insists that he let himself feel bad, let the darkness creep in around the edges, persistent and constant.

He has no right to feel the way he does, because at the end of the day, he hadn't been threatened with chipping, or imprisonment, or at worst  _death_.

He's still been able to keep his job, as a leader. There isn't anything he's really lost, just for being himself. His life, the past couple of months especially, haven't been easy by any means, but they could have been a lot harder.

_"Knock, knock."_

Alec drags his head up, something inside him unravelling at the mere sight of Magnus, leaning against the edge of the doorway. Magnus just makes the hard things worth bearing.

"All done?" Alec asks, ignoring the adrenaline - which oddly feels a lot like guilt - that sparks inside of him.

Magnus scans the room, quickly, his gaze drawing back to Alec's like a magnet. "Isabelle is typing up the report now, but yes, my work is done. For now." He pushes off the wall, shutting the door behind him with a swift wave of his hand. "And you?"

Alec tries to laugh it off, but the noise comes out more as an exasperated groan. Magnus tuts, sympathetically, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it over the back of a chair opposite Alec's desk.

"Is it that obvious?" Alec asks, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"No," Magnus replies, kindly. "Well, yes, but that's only because I know you well enough to notice when something is wrong." He rounds the desk, movements slow and elegant. "You can't keep things from me, darling. We've transcended that step a long time ago, now."

Alec jolts, slightly, when Magnus' hands land on his shoulders, but it's easy to melt into the touch, barely a consideration. Magnus' grip is gentle, but firm enough to make a difference, thumbs pressed into Alec's back, pushing out the knots his muscles had tied themselves into.

Magnus' touch is, to no surprise, magical.

"What did she say, now?" Magnus asks, hands roaming up to Alec's neck. "Something utterly distasteful about your obviously wonderful taste in gorgeous men? Your altered dedication to what is important in life, which I doubt she'll believe is the good and safety of everyone, race for once not a factor."

"It's the same, dumb rhetoric. Same excuse as to why she couldn't come to the meeting. Same 'you're a disgrace to the Shadowhunter name' spiel I've heard a thousand times before." Alec stares at a minor groove in the desk, a tiny dent barely noticeable had he not been searching for something to focus on. "I can handle her aggravation, when it's directed towards me."

Magnus freezes for a second too long, enough for Alec's heart to pound inside his chest and threaten to break through the cavern of his ribs. "Oh," Magnus says, voice no higher than a whisper. "Well, I can't say I'm all that surprised."

"The Inquisitor tried to convince me that the only reason you have the title of High Warlock, is because you are marginally better than other warlocks, because there aren't a lot. She spoke of it like a ranking system, or luck of the draw, as though you have the title because no one else wants it - she spoke of your power as though you only conjure portals, not sacrifice your own energy to saving lives and defending the innocent."

Magnus' touch shifts, somehow tighter and yet impossibly gentle. Alec's eyes flutter closed, and he allows himself to lean back into the touch. "You perform the same duty that Shadowhunters do, and then some, and yet you get treated like you are nothing more than a glorified magician - we didn't get on the subject of other Downworlders, because I essentially kicked her out before it could get any further, but I can't imagine she'd have had nice things to say about them, either."

Magnus' voice, when it breaks the silence, is thin and hesitant. "You did?"

Alec nods, short and a little jerky. Magnus' hands stop, now a warm weight on Alec's shoulders. "I couldn't listen to it anymore. I tried explaining that, firstly we need the support of the Downworld because there is no way we are strong enough without them, and secondly, we - Shadowhunters - can't keep pushing this divide, because there is no reason we should be held on a pedestal as 'higher beings' when we're all flawed and problematic and, at the core of it all, at least half-human."

Magnus' hands fall from Alec's shoulders, but before Alec can mourn the loss, they're grasping either side of his face, and Alec decides he'd much rather focus on the flecks of gold in Magnus' unglamoured eyes, hovering in front of him.

"I love you." Magnus states, leaning forward to brush a kiss against Alec's forehead - and then his nose, the crease of his eyes, the apple of either cheek, the curve of his jaw and both corners of his mouth, before finally pressing against Alec's own lips.

The air in the room is crackling with static electricity, and quite possibly a hint of Magnus' actual magic, heightened to an impossible degree.

"You are an enigma, a gift, and a surprise all wrapped in one beautiful person." Magnus continues, pressing his forehead to Alec's. "Nobody, mundane, Downworlder, or Shadowhunter has ever supported or defended me so endlessly, so fiercely as you do."

"You told me once," Alec whispers, voice hoarse. "That I would blow up the very ground I walk upon to make things right." He reaches out, pulling Magnus forward until he's straddling Alec, palms still pressed firmly to Alec's cheeks. "I don't want to go so far as blowing things up, but you don't deserve to be mistreated the way you so often are, and if there is something I can do, to prevent it, in any way, then I will."

Magnus shakes his head, just slightly, thumbs idly stroking Alec's cheeks. "I'm so glad I met you," He whispers. "That you crashed into my loft and shot that Circle member, that fate brought us together, however tangled the path has been."

Alec leans forward, capturing Magnus' bottom lip between his, tantalising and patient, for no reason other than because he wants to, because the moment is so electric with emotion that letting the chance pass would be nothing short of a crime.

"I love you," Alec says, when they pull back, eventually, hands wrapped around Magnus to keep him from even daring to move. "I don't want to over-step, because I'm not a Downworlder and I won't ever go through the experiences that you have, but I want to support you, however I can, because you deserve only the best in life."

"I have the best." Magnus smiles, giddy and punch-drunk and caught in utter disbelief. "I have you. You are everything I will ever need, Alexander, and your support means more to me than any riches or power."

Alec isn't good at prose or poetry, he stumbles over his words when he tries to make things up, and he can't craft sentences of beauty like knitting thread, the way Magnus can.

He can speak from his heart, however, and be honest, the only way he knows how. The only way that Magnus deserves.

"I couldn't imagine my life without you."

The responding kiss is firm and passionate and overwhelmingly sweet, Magnus' hands sliding back to tangle in Alec's hair, keeping him as close as the laws of the universe will allow, until it is hard to distinguish where he begins and Alec ends.

"A life without you, Alexander." Magnus ushers the words against Alec's skin like a reverence, a benediction, the only thing worth saying. "Is not a life at all."

The pressure of the unrelenting Clave is not a weight that will easily budge, and the Downworlders who feel stomped and trodden upon will not have faith and trust in Shadowhunters with just a few encouraging words.

Alec is determined though, and stubborn, and he's already making waves by not backing down from his relationship, from his decisions, from who he is at his core. It won't be easy, but things that are worth something never are, and it's the actions that people take when things are hard that reflect upon who they are, and which encourage others to take a step forwards themselves.

Besides. He's not doing it alone. And at the end of the day, when the world is bleak and depressing and he wants nothing more than to simply give up, he has the loft to return to, which has in less than a month become more of a home than the Institute ever was, and beyond that, he knows he'll always have Magnus, to offer a steaming cup of tea or open arms, a lap to fall asleep on, hands to run soothingly through his hair, lips to press a calming kiss against his temple, and more healing love than Alec thinks he'll ever know what to do with.

Even with Valentine dead, the world may still burn down around them, but at the very least, Alec and Magnus will always have each other to lean on, to chase away the cold when it starts to seep in too far, to remind the other that there are good things in life.

If nothing else, they have love.

**Author's Note:**

> ... some days you just get to a point where you want to see Alec stand up against the Clave. 
> 
> Ethiopian tradition and Amharic saying comes from [here](https://ethiopianfood.wordpress.com/2015/01/01/gursha-hands-across-the-table/) if I got anything wrong please, respectfully, let me know and I will fix it asap. thank you. 
> 
> -
> 
> LINKS: 
> 
> Twitter: [ninwrites](https://mobile.twitter.com/ninwrites) for fic stuff + [malteser_24](https://mobile.twitter.com/malteser_24) for general fandom mess
> 
> Tumblr: [killjoyrow](http://killjoyrow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> {if you want to live-tweet, use #malteser24 I promise I read them all!}
> 
> thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and if you're bored, I highly suggest looking at the SH-AU Mondays fics. They're brilliant. 
> 
> \- Nin <3


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